I was very tall, so tall I could see the west coast from Boston. There was a party happening here. Other people seemed to be the same height as me. The party was taking place in huts that people had build out of seemingly scraps and spare objects. A drug was given making everyone friendly and loving. Old highschool friends and a highschool exboyfriend were there, folks I've not spoken with for decades, and we were all at peace, happy and interested in eachother's lives. I felt a sense of warmth, love, and closure.
But just as we were tall, it seemed perhaps the Earth was small. The cycles of days, in retrospect, were quick, and twice during this hut party/festival we'd all retire to our quarters and then try to find eachother again the next day to varying success (I got the impression it was a somewhat large festival). The third day of the party, we knew it was over, and in varying states of consciousness, returned to work.
I worked an office job in D.C., but not for long. My job, it seemed, was to catch balls falling from space and direct them towards the people they were meant to go into, but there was something wrong with how it was being done....it was too corporate and contrived....people were being treated who didn't need it, and it was taking away from the people who did. My father, angry, intervened. The next day I found myself back in Boston (where the hut festival was) working a similar job of catching the balls from space, but this time it was a in a more grassroots environment, and I was meant to redirect the balls into people and places and problems that needed healing. It was a constant stream, and I had to be constantly on my game, or too many of these balls would enter and pile up in the area being treated, and instead of healing it, it would go too far and start to cause another problem.
The situation grew in intensity...I was finding people and problems all over the place and talking with them, even when I'd get up from my workplace and go into the bathroom stall...there were more people talking about problems right there....and even a story about a problem in the past would bring me to it in real life. In the bathroom, for example, I overheard a group of girls chatting around the mirror, and they were talking about the last time they were there, a friend of theirs was drunk and sick in one of the stalls, and immediately I was back in time helping this person, directing the balls from space towards her, as if I was some sort of ...cosmic social worker (came to mind upon waking).
But then the balls started falling with more intensity, faster than I could keep up, and I realized a bunch of jocks were somehow part of the equation.....drunk, and being careless throwing them. I did everything I could to run around protecting the places that needed to be protected, and directing them to places that needed haling....and I remember them shouting out "who gives a crap, dude, it's Rock N Roll Resort! Woohoo!" right before I woke up....
The strange thing was...the "shack like" qualities of civilization never really changed...it was as if all of civilization was made out of scrap wood hammered haphazardly, old mattresses as walls, and scrap tin roofs.
Healing from space....
